The destruction of the shotgun makes him frown, struck by an unexpected sadness at its loss. There wasn't much left of Winters already, and now it's only his tablet. Wherever that is. Even the one who had it is gone, now.

"Chewed off and blown up? Not at the same time, I hope." Not that it matters, since whatever caused it is dead. For good this time. "I'm sure Winters would've appreciated that you used it to shoot off some monster's face." He's assuming there was at least a little face-shooting.

"... Pity he isn't here to see this." He tries to keep the emotion out of his voice, and mostly succeeds. It's not as if he and Winters were friends. They barely even worked together, and only then because they had to. He doesn't feel like he owed the man, exactly, for convincing Robin to call off the spirits. Truth be told, he doesn't know what he feels. But the least he can do is bring the memory up, right? The physical objects are gone, but that's still there.